


Crypt of the Mind

by Mintaka55



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Dark Past, F/M, Fantasy, Flirting, Gen, Ghosts, Mental Illness, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of Violence, Military, Multi, Other, Paranormal, Romance, Siblings, War, constructed world, constructed world setting, low tech sci fi, paranormal scariness, sci fi, sibling relationships, specfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-03 17:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintaka55/pseuds/Mintaka55
Summary: Kel is a young man in Tosi society--difficult enough already, since it is a strict matriarchy. His sister is called to war with the Ríli, leaving him to face a debilitating mental illness alone. But does he have to be alone? He is no fighter, but he will have to weather the ravages of war like any soldier. Will he leave his home city in search of a different and better life, or remain in the security of his ancestral house, which, as he begins to discover, just might be haunted with ghosts of the past--both figuratively and literally.





	1. A Day in the Capital

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes places in the constructed world of Aeniith. A lot of references are in Tosi, a language spoken by the Tosi people involved in this story. For more info on Aeniith, visit aeniith.com, aeniith.blog, or my tumblr at aeniith.tumblr.com. I may add linguistic references if you think it would be helpful.

If you asked his sister, there was always something to be angry about. Frankly, it scared him sometimes. Sometimes she scared him. Just like Māha had. But Koma was not their mother. She was just as fierce but her fierceness was driven by a stark ambition, an ever-present desire to climb higher and higher. Māha had been content with her life, a bookkeeper for an agricultural family. Koma was not content. Koma was never content with what she had, always she had to have more and more. 

If there was one thing he knew in his life, it was that Koma would be like this until the day she died. No amount of success or power was sufficient for her. It was tiring to him. Why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had achieved? Why did it always have to be more? Why couldn’t she have been endowed with their mother’s wisdom as well as her temper?

“Kel!” her voice rang out in the large, mostly empty foyer. “I thought you were buying more wine? Where is it?”

Kel peered around the wall from the darkness of the sitting room. “I was about to go into town.”

“Well hurry up. I have been working all day and I need my goddess-damned wine!”

“I know, I’m going now,” he replied, and went to the cloakroom to get his shoes and scarf. Not cold enough for a coat, not warm enough for no outer layers. Autumn was starting to turn towards winter, and living in the northern-most of the larger Tosi cities meant winter actually did something except make it rain a whole lot, such as it did in the Capital City. 

She really should stop drinking so much, this much he certainly knew. But it was so tiring to try to stop her—to try to stop her from doing anything. His sister seemed to have endless fight in her, and she didn’t choose her battles—everything was a battle with her. He had partially given up trying to fight her—on most things anyway. He couldn’t give up on other fronts. He still loved her too much. It was impossible for him not too—his only sister, who had practically raised him and his brothers since Māha’s untimely death. He owed her much, and his life revolved around her. He could no more help loving her than he could breathing. She was his older sister, his _nas_ , and they were tied inextricably together. It was their nature. 

Kel lifted the gezil weaving as he exited the front door. It was getting frayed and faded—possibly time for a new one. He shouldn’t feel excited about having to replace an old gezil—they were rather costly after all. But he couldn’t shake the feeling when he thought of who he wanted to commission a new one from. Hopefully, she would be at the market that day. 

~

The sun was low in the sky in the late afternoon, filtering through the colored tarps and tents of the marketplace. Kel held his hand up to shade his eyes from the orange fire in the sky as he scanned the main square for a familiar face. Her stall was not always in the same spot since she didn’t always come to market. At last he spied the telltale golden braids wrapped around her head. She wore a long deep purple robe and blue sash around her waist. Mīve, the best gezil mol, or weaver of gezil tapestries, that the city could offer. She was not well known outside the south quarter at this point in her career, probably owing to her relative youth, but Kel knew her, and he knew her talent. 

He approached the stall and bowed politely, his hand over his heart and his eyes briefly closed, as was the custom for men to show deference to women among the Tosi. She smiled sweetly and waved her hand back and forth in front of her face, signaling “no need” for such formalities, though this itself was a formality. Kel raised his gaze and smiled back. She was stunningly beautiful in the lowering sunlight, the warm hues lighting up her golden hair like fire, gleaming like mica in a river rock. He felt a surge of warmth through his cheeks and realized he didn’t know what he was going to say. I need a new gezil? How are you? I’m glad to see you again? No, he thought, these were all supremely stupid options, and he started to panic. 

Fortunately, Mīze’s innate politeness kicked in and saved him the terror of having to choose the right greeting. 

“Kel! I haven’t seen you here in months. Does your sister not let you out of the house much?” 

She winked to indicate her joking manner, but Kel did not want to tell her how this was almost close to the truth. Besides when she had him running errands for her, Koma frowned on her brother wandering around the city unaccompanied. Sometimes she sent a servant or roped one of her friends into going with him, but this “monitoring” removed so much of the joy he had in simply walking and exploring by himself. He often took to the next best thing—taking advantage of the extensive and largely unused collections of books in his sister’s house. 

“It’s, well,” he faltered. “I’ve been…busy.” This wasn’t remotely true—he’d been more bored than ever, but he felt he was slowly turning into a shut-in. 

“I’m glad you finally made it out then. Are you in the market for a gezil?” she asked.

“Yes, actually. I noticed ours is fraying terribly—it is pretty old. Koma will be irritated if she spots it before I replace it.”

“Well I am glad to serve you!” she gave him an exaggerated bow with a flourish of her silver-ringed fingers. Kel nervously glanced up upon noticing how the movement exposed the tops of her pale breasts—white as eggs, he thought, hoping his blush was not evident. 

“What design does she want? I have ez, kista, nazelu, ek kos…maybe even some with gold thread in here.” She started to pull out troves of carefully folded gezil, in a myriad of dizzying designs and colors, some embellished with glass beads, precious gems, pearls, silver amulets, and other finely made trinkets. Mīze was a truly gifted artisan. Kel wished he could buy them all. 

“My sister’s tastes are more subdued than mine, I’m afraid,” he said.

“Now that surprises me,” Mīze replied, her eyes twinkling. “She doesn’t have taste in craftwork that matches her personality?” 

“She likes muted colors: olive, mauve, brown, maroon.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “A bit ironic. Surely she wouldn’t punish you for getting something a little more interesting?”

“To be honest, she probably won’t notice the design much. But she hates things getting old or messy, so I have to buy one.”

“Hmm, in that case, I’d say you could probably get away with something more festive than mauve, for Tek’s sake!” She shuffled the tapestries around and pulled out a few in deep crimson and vermillion hues, bejeweled with gold bells and glossy dark blue glass beads that glimmered like drops of oil in the sunlight. 

“That one,” said Kel decisively, pointing toward the brightest of the bunch. Mīze smiled brightly and pulled it out for him to inspect more closely. 

“A very good choice,” she said with practiced ease. She was so charming, Kel was sure her sales had to be through the roof. From the looks of her fine clothing, she was in no way hurting for money. Still, he loved seeing her so much, he felt sincerely happy to give her business. 

“I’ll give you a discount too,” she added. “If you promise to come out more often! Surely your sister doesn’t mind? You should come with me to the new bar on Gasti Street, it just opened! I know you like opol ale.”

Kel felt his lips twitch with a smile. “How did you know that?” He had never told her any such thing. 

“You’d be surprised the things I come to know around the marketplace. Everyone knows something interesting.” Still her ever-present, gleaming smile. Her teeth were far too white. Her eyes shone and a tiny dimple indented her right cheek. Kel felt he couldn’t stand to look into her eyes for too long at once.

“Well, if you insist, I’m sure I can find a way to get out. What time did you have in mind?”

“Right after the market closes, if you can!” She started to fold the gezil up and wrap it in burlap, placing it in a sack for him. 

Kel felt a wave of apprehension. It would be difficult to get away. He’d have to make up some excuse. But he was nothing if not clever, and he knew it—he would figure out a way to leave and meet her. He couldn’t miss this chance. 

He turned and paid her the amount she indicated—a good twenty percent less than her ticketed price, he noticed. He thanked her, took the gezil, and started off toward home. He was so distracted by his wandering (and admittedly somewhat frenetic) thoughts that he almost forgot his sister’s wine.


	2. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kel returns home to discover that his sister may be leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language/culture: 
> 
> Shala : a term of address from a man or boy to his older sister  
> Ij : a rank of military commander--essentially a master strategist or scholar of war who commands large numbers of troops. They usually don't engage in battle directly, but this has some exceptions.  
> Lamat : goddess of war worshipped by most middle- to upper-class Tosi 
> 
> The Tosi are at war with the Ríli to the north. They originally invaded the Rílin homeland a few years ago to exploit its rich natural resources, but are having troubles succeeding for various reasons...
> 
> ~

By the time he arrived home, his sister was waiting in the living room, a mess of maps spread out over the low table. Her brow was furled into a frown and she was so concentrated she did not seem to hear him come in.

 

“Shala, I brought your wine,” he offered quietly.

 

“Put it down here, I am busy,” she said without looking up.

 

He slipped into the kitchen to fetch her a glass, and opened the wine for her. Setting it down carefully on the floor beside her—as the table was utterly covered with maps—he looked into her face.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“Business.”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Lamat’s tits, Kel, can’t you mind your own matters?” she snapped at him, her glaring eyes finally tearing away from the papers in front of her. She looked flushed and frustrated. She sighed and shoved the nearest map away, reaching for the wine bottle and glass.

 

“The northern border has been attacked by those Ríli rats! Our border fortress fell at the east end and Ríli are pouring into our lands. The _ij_ are planning to gather soldiers from the Capital and the favored of the Empress’ court are being called to join.”

 

Kel froze.

 

“…you can’t be serious.” He knew what she was implying. “You _cannot_ go into _war_. Are you insane? It’s been ten, fifteen, how many years since you fought? I cannot lose my only sister to that slaughter!”

 

She stared at him, hard and cold. The flush from her cheeks was gone, and her face was white.

“I’ll ignore your tone for now. You know I have to do this.” She took an angry swig of wine.

 

“I certainly do not know that! If you die, what is going to happen to me? I will be alone forever!” Kel sank to his knees in front of the table, looking down at the array of maps but not seeing anything on them. His mind reeled.

 

“What will happen to you? Quite simply you will be a very lucky brother, heir to my wealth, given my lack of sisters. But don’t misunderstand me, Kel. I am not going into battle to die.”

 

Always her over-confidence, always her limitless assurance that she would succeed. Such a thing had brought her this far, but it could just as easily prove her doom. He could not see her fall like this, after so long of being at her side. His sister had been a warrior, true enough, but she was no longer so young and had been out of the mercenary business for years. To join the ranks of the _ij_ —the Tosi officers of war—made sense politically. Warriors were inevitably given favor by the Empress, and for Koma to take up arms again in the manner of her former profession would only add to her popularity in the court. But this had not been her life in so long—had not been _his_ life—his life of fearing for her existence on a daily basis. He didn’t think he could stand it again.

 

“You would hurt me irrevocably like this, Shala?” He felt himself start to tremble involuntarily, his body seemingly plucked out of his control.

 

Quite suddenly her face seemed to fall and soften. Her eyes looked a little more like he remembered them when they were children, big and wide and black, like pools of ink.

 

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. I swear, Kel. You know I am your protector. I promised Māha.”

 

“If you go away and die, I will be left here with no one. Think about this, Koma!”

 

“I am! This is a unique chance, Kel. I won’t be in the front lines, I will be with the other _ij_ , comparatively safe. We will be in the cavalry for the most part. You need not worry.”

 

“I can’t believe you would say that. Actually, I can quite believe it. You always think I should just fall in line, not complain, not object, not speak my mind.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Like that has ever stopped you from doing it! You are quite an outspoken boy.”

 

“As if it has ever gotten me anything! You are still abandoning me.”

 

She drew up closer to him, resting her hand gently on his shoulder.

 

“I swear I am not. I promise you I will return from this, and I will be able to care for you even better when I return.”

 

He lifted his eyes to hers. Her dark gaze was less cold but equally determined as ever. “You care for me just perfectly well now. We have _everything_ we could need. But you...you never have everything you want, do you? Nothing is ever enough for you.”

 

She was silent, but looked into his eyes with a sincere expression. “I will make to you the strongest of vows to return.”

 

With that, she sat down again and started stacking the maps up, taking another drink of wine. Her lips were stained purple at this point, and she refilled her glass.

 

Kel released a nervous sigh and made his way toward the marble staircase, intent on staying shut in his bedroom until the time came that the market closed. Even more than before, he felt he had to get out of this house, away from Koma, to try, just for a while, to think about something else. He could not process this—the house would drive him crazy. He hoped Mīze would prove to be a distraction.

 


	3. Light in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kel meets with Mīze and she shows him something she has found.

Night had fallen and Kel glanced at the family clock that had started to ring out the hour in the foyer. The heirloom object hailed the nineteenth hour of the day. The marketplace would have just closed up for the evening. Mīze was surely waiting for him, or would be soon.

 

The wide bay window in his bedroom opened onto the roof of the house, and after wrapping a cloak around his shoulders, he carefully stepped out into the cooling air. There was a light breeze that was picking up an assortment of dry leaves and Kel looked down as they swirled along the cobblestones. He shivered and cautiously moved across the roof, his feet gripping the tiles tenuously. He bent his knees and crossed over to the lower portion of the roof, lowering himself into a crouch.

 

Inside his cloak was a rope, which he twined around a short iron chimney, and used it to lower himself slowly to the ground. The most ridiculous lengths were apparently required to keep his sister from losing her mind over what _he_ considered to be perfectly normal behavior. He was a _grown man_ , after all, but his sister’s protectiveness was as limitless as her temper. If he knew where he was going, she’d be even more incensed. Going out to meet a strange woman, at night, alone. She’d bring the house down with her outage over _that_.

 

As he alighted on the ground, he swiftly wound the rope up again, tucking it once again inside of his cloak, securing it in a large pocket. He pulled the hood up, and looked in a nearby window, realizing how suspicious he must look, decked out in a mysterious dark cloak, wandering about alone after dark. _Not conspicuous at all_. Hopefully he could manage to take off his hood after leaving his sister’s property. At best if any of her servants saw them, they’d just laugh at Koma’s _willful brother_ flouncing around at night; at worse, they’d tell her and she’d send one of them after him. _I will just have to be extra careful_ , he reminded himself.

 

As he got to the main street, past the small dark alley that ran behind the back walls of the garden, he saw a few lamplighters firing up the streetlights. One was a young man, perhaps ten years his junior, who was conveniently very tall. This meant his wick pole didn’t have to be very long, and he wasn’t holding it by the very end as the others were. As Kel got closer to him, he could see an unusual amount of musculature in the man’s body, more than he was used to seeing on any man but the few who joined the Tosi military.

 

Kel approached him and cleared his throat to speak. “Excuse me,” he said. “Could you tell me where I should go to get to Gasti Street?”

 

The man’s eyes widened and he gave a small smile. “Oh yes, the new bar, right? It’s off of Pel Tis An Road.” His accent seemed foreign to Kel, and it was a few moments before he realized the man must have a Gotevian accent. It sounded to Kel like the way a river flowed, with long streams of words, consonants snipped off here and therre. It was not very common in the Capital City, not these days. Ever since the Gotevians had started trading with the Ríli, most of their citizens shunned Tosi territory. Kel imagined this man’s great stature and apparent strength came from his Gotevian heritage, as Tosi men were smaller and more slender. This man, however, would give a Tosi athlete a run for her money. _Impressive_ , he thought. 

 

The man continued. “Take Pel Tis An and then go right down Angli Boulevard for a while. The last left before that one giant _tega_ tree is Gasti. New place is on the right. You can’t miss it. Pretty little south-facing building, blue clay-built.” The man gazed ahead as if he were looking through Kel. He gave a long yawn.

 

Kel thanked him and continued down the street.

 

After a few minutes of walking, he came upon the bar, just as blue as the Gotevian man had explained.

 

As he approached the building, Kel could see through the window that Mīze had already arrived and was sitting at a small table near the front of the bar. She didn’t appear to have started drinking yet and she was looking down at something in her hands, which were cupped on top of the table in front of her. Kel entered and turned to greet her. His ears were assaulted with far too many voices for his comfort, and he almost turned around and left, but Mīze looked up and immediately replaced whatever she was looking at into her pocket. She smiled up at him from her chair, her white teeth gleaming in the low light. He couldn’t turn around now.

 

“You managed to come!” she said, looking more excited than he was expecting.

 

He shifted a bit nervously before realizing he should take a seat across from her. There was a tiny lit candle on the small table and the light cast a pretty glow about her face.

 

“Yes, finally. Sorry about that. My sister is…” he suddenly stopped and decided he did not want to talk about his sister, especially now since his feelings about her were so mixed. He was worried for her and resented her at once.

 

Mīze just nodded in understanding. “The war…”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“It’s the same….for me.” She looked down at her hands.

 

“Surely you aren’t being drafted?” Kel asked with a sudden sense of horror.

 

“No! Tek, no. I mean, look at me. As desperate as they are, I can’t imagine they’d except me, even as a victim of the draft.” Kel was not sure what she meant. She looked to be in perfect health to him. Plenty tall, if a bit on the thin side for a woman. Still, he knew nothing of the military’s physical standards.

 

“It’s…it’s actually my cousin,” Mīze said, looking back up at him. Her eyes shone and he thought for a second that she might be holding back tears, though not a single one escaped her eye. “She was drafted last month. Infantry. They sent her to the border…I have no hope left at this point. I haven’t gotten a single letter. She said she would write…maybe they just have no way of sending it.”

 

Kel narrowed his eyes in sympathy. A knot of worry grew in his stomach. What if this was what it would be like for him once Koma left? Constant uncertainty and wondering if he would ever see his only sister—his only relative—alive again.

 

“I don’t know how it works, I’m sorry. Koma used to be a mercenary, when we were younger. But she’s never been in the military proper. I can’t understand why she would want to be, with how things are now.”

 

“It’s not like she would have a choice,” said Mīze.

 

Kel realized how different Koma’s situation was from Mīze’s cousin’s. Koma _chose_ to do this, and she would be given a high officer’s position, given every resource she needed to fight effectively, keep herself safe, and would probably be in the position of a strategist rather than a foot solider at any given moment. Mīze’s cousin—whoever she was—was likely nowhere near as a fortunate. She was being sent in as no more than a sacrifice to the ever-grinding machine of war. A victim on the altar of Lamat. The Tosi army was not kind to drafted women. Kel was hesitant to explain Koma’s situation to Mīze. He’d rather put it from his mind, at least for the evening.

 

“I—uh, should we get drinks?”

 

Mīze seemed to accept his attempt to change the topic and rose quickly to order from the bar. He wondered what she was ordering them. After a moment, she returned and sat down again.

She seemed to guess his internal question and smiled slyly at him.

 

“You’ll see!” she said cheerfully. She appeared to be in better spirits. Kel was glad. He didn’t want to remind her of her troubles or burden her with his.

 

In no time, a man arrived at that table, carefully placing two tall thin glasses in front of them. They were tapered into a flare at the top, like a narrow fan spread out. Inside was a clear pale red liquid.

 

“What is it? Ale?” Kel looked at the drink skeptically.

 

“Yeah, fire ale, have you had it? It’s some regional thing from the desert.”

 

“You mean some swill that soldiers drink in the middle of nowhere? I thought you were inviting me here for _opol_ ale.”

 

“Hey, you’ll soon be insulting your sister with such a remark, you know! Plus, there’s more to the southern desert than just forts and military stuff. I’ve been there you know!” Mīze announced with some sort of pride—he guessed pride at actually having been outside the “golden cage” of the Capital City. He did envy her that. Many people, noble or not, were born in the massive Capital of the Tosi Empire and never left their entire lives.  

 

Kel sighed. He was still frustrated with Koma and still didn’t want to speak of her yet.

 

“Anyway, don’t be rude! Just try it.”

 

He rolled his eyes but assented and lifted the glass to his lips.

 

“Well,” he said. “You weren’t wrong, Mīze.”

 

“I know I wasn’t!” she exclaimed, and her face was lit up with cheer as she took a long healthy drink.

 

The fire ale was true to its name—it burned Kel’s throat just enough to be a warm tingle—not like the harsh burn of _tāl_ , which was much more intoxicating.

 

Despite the temptation to order something like _tāl_ , he knew it was ultimately a bad idea. He’d just suffer for it the next day, and a hangover would tip off Koma that he’d been out. That was the last thing he needed to deal with.

 

“You don’t get out much,” Mīze stated. It wasn’t a question.

 

“How...can you tell?” he asked.

 

“You look panicked. It’s loud in here. Do you want to pay and leave when we’re done with these two drinks? We don’t have to stay here if you hate it.”

 

“I’d...appreciate a quieter place, but it’s tolerable. I can do it,” Kel replied. In part, he didn’t want her to think he was _weak_ and incapable of handling something as pedestrian as being inside of a bar. He feared if they left she’d stop talking to him for some reason. He also enjoyed the warm glow of the candles across her face, and didn’t want to return to the dark of the streets yet. The light made her look like a _narēd_ from legend, a fire spirit born in the hearts of burning mountains. Her eyes gleamed with concern as she looked at him and he felt the anxiety coiled in his chest begin to unwind slightly, like a snake falling asleep. That she cared how uncomfortable he was touched him, considering he didn’t know her very well.

 

“So...” he tried to recommence the conversation. It wasn’t his particular talent.

 

“ _So,_ ” she copied. “So I have something interesting to show you.”

 

He gave her a questioning glance, and she pulled from her pocket something—that same something she’d been gazing at when he had arrived—and smacked it unceremoniously onto the table.

 

Kel raised a brow in curiosity. It was a small portrait of a woman, a strange looking lady, dressed in fashions from at least 100 years prior. Her hair was piled on her head in the formal style of the day, decorated with shells and amber. Her hair was an unusually bright red color, the like of which was not common amongst Tosi (at least, any Tosi he’d grown up around).

 

“Who is that?” he asked.

 

“That’s just it, I have no idea,” Mīze exclaimed. Her pupils were blown wide in excitement, and Kel absently wondered where she got all her energy.

 

“Well, where did you get this picture? It’s a painting, right? Or, I guess it looks more like an engraving.” Kel peered more closely at the little picture and tilted it toward the dim candle light. The engraving was colored with paint, which had faded over time. Still, the woman’s eyes were an unusual gold.

 

“I found it in my attic. It was in a chest of heirlooms from my family. The only problem is, I have no idea who this is. I have no relative that this could be.”

 

“Might she be a friend of your ancestors or something like this?”

 

“Maybe—but look on the back.”

 

Kel turned the picture over and saw scrawled in black ink:

 

_Dek El_

 

“Your family name? Oh. So it must be a relative, somehow.”

 

“She can’t have been. My family has _never_ been rich enough to afford—things like these,” she gestured to the woman’s finery. “We’ve been _gezil moli_ for generations. What we do is _weaving_. No one I can remember would have worn something like this.”

 

“Well, maybe she’s some great-aunt who married up?”

 

“The only situation in which that could happen is if there is some relative no one told me about. Anyway, I thought it was pretty strange. She looks more likely to be an _ij_ or something.”

 

“Could be. Will you look into it further?”

 

Mīze shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s interesting, but I guess not extremely important. I’m not sure I’d be allowed into any libraries around here, if there were even records of my family there. I don’t know if they participated in the census back then or not.”

 

“Māha told me once that all but the poorest families had records from the census. Do you have any documentation of yours at home?”

 

“Oh yes, but like I said, this woman appears nowhere. I would say this engraving is around one hundred years old, but there’s no one this could be.”

 

Kel thought of some of the vast libraries he’d visited before in the city. They were not universally open to the public—usually one had to be added to a list of accepted names to be allowed access to materials. He doubted Mīze’s family was considered in high enough regard to be on any such list, despite their clear skill. Skill didn’t always equal prestige in Tosi society, Kel thought with a grimace.

 

“I could bring you as a guest to the _Belin Josekang_ if you wanted. They’d probably accept you if I went along.”

 

Mīze looked up, her eyes wide, but her mouth was crooked and she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

 

“I...wouldn’t want to have to do that. I know it would reflect badly on your sister.”

 

Kel considered. Being seen within the walls of presitigious institution with a _ezun_ , a member of the lower artisanal classes, would be considerd, by a some, a blow to their dignity. He certainly didn’t trust that Koma would approve of it. But such societal practices digusted him, and the resentment boiling in his belly for sister pushed him toward defiance. Besides, it was _Mīze._ He would be an idiot to refuse her anything.

“I don’t particularly care what reflects badly on my sister right now,” he said somewhat tersely. “We can go on the next _amnak_ if you want.”

 

“Alright, I’ll get my sister to watch the stall. Thanks, Kel.”

 

He smiled and took a drink of the fire ale. “It’s nothing.”

 

“Do you want another drink?”

 

Kel stared down into his now empty glass, licking the last remaining bubbles of foam from his lips.

 

“Sure, but I’ll get the next round. I can’t let you buy me too many drinks.”

 

Mīze laughed, and the sound was as bright and golden as her hair, which she had unbound and now flowed freely over her shoulders.

 

“Of course you can! It’s only right that I should anyway,” she said with a wink.

 

This made Kel pause—typically a Tosi woman only bought a man extensive amounts of drink if she planned on trying to bed him. He did not think this was Mīze’s intention, but he couldn’t be entirely sure. She was being friendly with him But then, he reasoned, she was very friendly with everyone in his experience. But those other people had mostly been her customers, so maybe...

 

He was overthinking it, he knew it. One of his worst habits. Shaking his head of his thoughts, he put on another small smile.

 

“Well, if you’re insisting, I won’t say no. Get me an _opol_ this time, though. Something to sooth my mouth after all this fire.”

 

She smirked. “What a weak mouth!” She laughed again and with a whirl of skirts, she was gone again to the bar counter.

 

Kel tried to sink lower into the weathered wooden seat. The sounds of the room seemed even more amplified now that Mīze wasn’t there to distract him. His ears rang and his mouth felt dry, even though he had just finished a whole goblet of beer. Crowded spaces were not his favorite. Nor were loud voices. The voices inside this cramped room had nowhere to go and echoed deafeningly off the clay walls. Drunken laughter cascaded through the space around him and seemed to hit him physically, making his bones hum. Kel felt his heartrate start to increase, and he took a long, deep breath, trying to quiet the quickening flutter in his chest. He pressed his ear into the side of the wooden window frame he was seated by, and closed his eyes.

 

Soon enough, Mīze had returned with more ale. _Opol_ , this time, as he’d asked for. She sat down with a contented sigh and handed Kel his glass.

 

They both took long drinks and their eyes found one another again. For a moment, Mīze was silent, and the clammor of cacophony around them seemed to hum and buzz.

 

“I didn’t just-I didn’t just bring you here to show you that picture,” said Mīze. She looked down at her glass.

 

“No? You wanted to buy me fire ale?” he smiled.

 

“Eh, well, partially! I really just wanted to see you alone, but...I didn’t know how busy it would be here!” she glanced behind her in annoyance at some particular loud patrons.

 

“We’re hardly alone.”

 

“Oh, I know. It’s just, I knew you needed to get away from your house. You seemed a little tense this afternoon, if it’s not rude of me to say. But now I’m afraid I’ve invited you to a place that’s made you even more tense. I’m sorry! I’m not good at this.”

 

“This? You’re good at everything I’ve seen you do, I think. And it’s alright, it’s not a big problem for me to be here. I’m just used to being at home...not talking with many other poeple beside my sister and her servants.”

 

“I kind of figured that. Your sister is very devoted to her work, it seems. She trains young mercenaries now, right?”

 

“That’s right. She’s been done fighting herself for a while now. But I guess now that part of our lives is returning.”

 

“Sorry to bring it up.”

 

“It’s alright. I’ll have to come to terms with it sooner or later. I’m just not sure I can do that quite yet.”

 

She put a soft hand over his and drew her fingertips across his knuckles. A shiver ran through his body and his shifted backward slightly. He could feel the small calluses on her fingertips that he imagined came from her craft. Slowly, hesitantly, she pressed her hand into his more firmly.

 

“If you aren’t happy, you could...” she trailed off.

 

“It’s not that I’m not happy. I mean, I’ve had more nightmares lately and you know how much I love _those_. And now this issue with Koma. It’s just hard to stay calm sometimes. Everything seems to be caving in on me at once.”

 

Mīze said nothing but looked at him with sympathy. Her hand didn’t move from his. His cheeks filled with blood.

 

“I understand.”

 

It was the most he could have ever hoped for anyone to say to him. Years of living under the iron thumb of Koma, who would hardly give him an ounce of affection since he reached his majority, and Kel had come to realize he was starving for contact, for the assurance of another person, and that he’d been this way since his mother had died. Just those two words from Mīze felt like the weight of a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders, like a fire had been lit in the darkness. The one simple touch of her hand was an oasis in a desert.

 

“Thank you.”


End file.
